


you can thank your stars all you want (but i'll always be the lucky one)

by dancinginthisworldalone



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, canon divergence because weyoun 6 deserved better, may or may not be a holosuite date, weyoun 6 lives!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29193474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinginthisworldalone/pseuds/dancinginthisworldalone
Summary: Picnic.Fleets of Federation starships are currently engaged in a war and she is inside a holosuite, currently engaged in a picnic with the Dominion’s right-hand man.
Relationships: Weyoun (Star Trek)/Original Character
Kudos: 1





	you can thank your stars all you want (but i'll always be the lucky one)

**Author's Note:**

> written to rico blanco's your universe

Picnic.

Fleets of Federation starships are currently engaged in a war and she is inside a holosuite, currently engaged in a _picnic_ with the Dominion’s right-hand man.

Well, _former_ right-hand man. The sixth Weyoun defected a few weeks ago, and they barely escaped the Jem’Hadar by the skin of their teeth (Odo still snorts at that expression, grumbling he doesn’t have teeth, and therefore her recount of their escape was inaccurate. Hiraya can only sigh so much).

Weyoun 6 was placed under her care, as per his request. But the questioning was conducted by someone from the Federation, a compromise, in a way, since not even Hiraya’s Grandfather was able to convince Federation Intelligence to let Odo handle Weyoun’s debriefing. They still don’t trust Odo, being the same species as the Founders.

The Vorta merely nodded his head upon hearing the news, and the sight was like watching a puppy get kicked. Whenever the questioning sessions would start, she would fix her eyes at his interrogator, always a different person every time, watching and waiting for any signs that they’ll hurt him.

And just in case they make a dumbass decision like that, well, her claws _have_ torn through coarser, thicker Jem’Hadar skins before. 

But there was no need for Hiraya to be intimidating. Hell, she didn’t even have to snarl at anyone. For all humans like to say about evolving towards becoming more accepting and open-minded, she still gets looks for being _part-caitian_. She can’t say it doesn’t work to her advantage, though. Humans are surprisingly easy to unnerve despite their current exposure to other alien races. All she needs to do is stand in the corner of the war-room, under the shadows, just enough for her eyes to catch the light and _shine_.

It was admirable how much he tried not to show it, but it was evident that even the benevolent questioning was starting to wear Weyoun down, despite his wish to cooperate. She would wait for him to look at her and if he did, Hiraya would have stopped the interrogation right away. But he never looked at her. There are days when the questions would dig a little deeper, a little more personal, and the interrogator would say something against the Founders, and Weyoun would flinch. He was also starting to appear a lot paler than after Dr. Bashir had him in surgery.

It was an uncomfortable thought for Hiraya that Weyoun exchanged one set of chains from the Dominion to another, this time held by the Federation.

She talked to her captain about letting their guest get a short break.

Captain Sisko said nothing as he read the request she prepared. He was far from unreasonable but considering the number of casualties that increased by the day, Hiraya was ready to argue that the information Weyoun had provided so far had already helped them destroy a Ketracel facility in the Kalaw system and a shipyard in the Namayan sector. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to let Weyoun take a break.

Her captain hands her the padd back, his approval code affixed. He was looking at her with a silent, _‘You could have done this without asking me, Lieutenant.’_ , but it didn’t feel right without consulting him first. Hiraya thanks him before walking out of his office. If she was skipping all the way to Odo and Weyoun’s shared quarters, no one mentioned a thing.

Flying to Risa was her first choice, but the Dominion is already on the lookout for Weyoun. She may not be as lucky in evading the Jem’Hadar ships the second time around. And who knows just how many ships they’ll send after the defector. 

So, Quark’s Holosuites is the next best thing.

She was able to get three hours.

Three hours away from the Cardassians and the Jem’Hadar and the Founders and the Federation. Here, in her old school’s sunken garden, it’s just the two of them away from their responsibilities.

**\--**

Hiraya meets him outside their assigned holosuite door, a welcome change from the war room, and while it wasn’t the first time he sees her out of her uniform, nor with her hair down, it was his first time seeing her in what he finds out later is called sundress. A popular garment on Earth. It was white and plain, reaching down her calves. 

Weyoun wondered if he was experiencing some sort of aftereffects from his operation because there’s an odd fluttering in his gut that wasn’t there before, making him just the slightest bit dizzy. He also felt his heart beating faster, but he was otherwise fine.

Perhaps he’ll ask Dr. Bashir later.

She was carrying a woven basket filled with colorful containers he knew weren’t replicated food. Hiraya shared her captain’s indifference towards replicators, preferring to make food the _right_ way if she has the time. Weyoun offered to carry the basket, and he was sure he blushed when Hiraya praised him for being a _gentleman_ as she handed it to him.

Weyoun didn't know he liked the heat of the sun against his face. Never mind that this is all artificial, nothing but tubes of light and codes and their brains falling for the illusion. Behind him, he registered the holosuite door closing with a faint hiss. He was now standing in a vast field of grass, outlined by towering trees Hiraya told him was called Acacia.

He followed her for a few more paces before Hiraya settled on a spot. She unfurled the blanket with a soft crack, its red gingham pattern contrasting against the bright, green grass.

The thing is, even after Dr. Bashir was able to successfully remove his implant, there are still things that Weyoun has a limited understanding of. Art and beauty were among them. But there are those he’s certain he enjoys looking at.

Like Hiraya, for example.

Through Weyoun 4’s memories, he remembers how she fought with and against the Jem’Hadar. During her time imprisoned in Camp 371, she lasted five rounds of fighting the Jem’Hadar guards. Weyoun 5 requested a holovid of her battles, and Deyos provided it to him, all the while eying him suspiciously. He watched her fight, cheered on loudly by the Klingon General Martok, who’s place she took as he recovered from his broken arms.

It was like witnessing a brutal, bloody fight as both combatants parried and punched and dodged and kicked. Hiraya won her last match, capturing the jem’hadar’s head between her hands and delivering a sharp knee to the center of its face. He can still see her in her torn, blood-stained uniform; panting, eyes blazed with fury as she spat, _“Ano, palag?”_ at her fallen adversary.

When they made their escape onboard her beloved _Adarna_ , she practically growled at Odo to command him to stay alive as she performed maneuvers to evade the Jem’Hadar troops his successor sent after them. Odo stared at her back for a moment, no doubt surprised at the burst she displayed, but relayed the order, nonetheless.

Weyoun hesitantly dropped his hands at his sides. They lasted just long enough to be in the range of a nearby Klingon fleet. The Klingon general clapped her back after she relayed her story, declaring that her valiant effort warrants a song. Two out of seven enemy starships weren’t bad, after all.

A stark difference in how she is now, with her hair unbound, billowing in the soft breeze. Her eyes still burn like suns, but its intensity isn’t born out of anger.

“What is this place?” Weyoun asked, looking around. The holoprogram included several people walking around the field. Students of various races, making their way to their classes. There were also several transport vehicles that ferried students from one side of the campus to the other. Hiraya said that those were called Ikot; a word in her native tagalog that means to circle, since they… well… circled around the campus.

She was overjoyed upon hearing the news that someone made a holoprogam of her old university, and she couldn’t wait to try it out but never really having the time with the war and all. So, when Captain Sisko gave her the green light to take Weyoun out, this was the first place she came up with.

“It’s where I studied before transferring to Starfleet,” Hiraya answers. “I wanted to study Terran history, and this was the best school for it”

Weyoun tilted his head. “But you changed your mind. Why?”

“The stars,” Hiraya winked. “And the fact that my Grandfather was promoted to Admiral. But didn’t force me joint Starfleet or something. None of my brothers and sisters wanted to follow his footsteps, so I figured, why not me?” She shrugged. “I liked it more than I expected, so here I am,”

The hem of her dress swayed gently as she stood, hands on her waists, looking at their surroundings with a wistful smile. He avoided his gaze from her legs, focusing instead on taking the food out of the basket and spreading them on the blanket. The containers were still warm, save for one which piqued his interest.

He stated at the rectangular food box in his hand, brows furrowed. He pulled the lid open, seeing some sort of… pastry, topped with cream and cubed yellow fruit. He brings it close to his nose and gives it a tentative sniff. It didn’t smell particularly strong, and he was only able to note the slightest hint of sweetness.

Perhaps it would make sense if he could get a mouthfeel...?

“Use a spoon!”

He almost jumped at his seat, not noticing that she was already sitting beside him. Feeling slightly chastised, he was about to put it down when she giggled and said, “I mean, you can eat it now, Weyoun, just use a spoon,”

“Why?”

“It’s gross if you didn’t. _Sige na_ , eat it but use a spoon.”

There was a part in what she said that quite didn’t register on his translator. “What does that mean? Uh… seege?”

Oh. That just means _go ahead,_ ” Hiraya shrugged

He pulls a glinting spoon out of the basket and… hesitates for a brief second about ruining the structure of the cake, but his curiosity about its taste won against wanting to preserve how it looks. _And besides_ , a voice inside his head said. _It’s supposed to be eaten, is it not?_ She’d already told him to go ahead…

Hiraya’s tail flickered with anticipation as she watched Weyoun dips his spoon into the dessert she made, raised it up to his mouth, and take a bit. She watched as his eyes closed as he chewed slowly, thoughtfully. Like he was committing what he ate to memory. She was itching to ask him how it was, whether he liked it or not.

But aside from a slight tilt of his head, Weyoun is yet to provide her feedback.

After what felt like an eternity, the Vorta opened his eyes, setting down the container, and only then was she able to let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“I am curious about the texture of this… what did you say it was?”

“Mango graham,”

“ _Mango graham_ ,” He echoes quietly, nodding to himself. “I assume you’d want my thoughts on your… Mango graham?”

“Please,” She answers with a slightly out of breath chuckle.

“The grainy, dusty texture constants perfectly with the heavier, smoother cream. And the uh, fruit cubes? Has the right amount of softness,” Weyoun says. “It’s still quite chilled, so I presume it is meant to be eaten that way. It’s satisfying. I wish I could fully taste it, but…”

He trails off, and Hiraya doesn’t miss the look in his eyes. He refused to alter his senses despite having the termination implant removed, insisting that while he defected from the Dominion, he would like to still be faithful to the Founders in his own way. “I know how you are with food, Weyoun.”

“Thank you, Hiraya.”

“ _Luh_ ,” Hiraya scoffs, scratching her cheek with one finger, avoiding looking at him. Avoiding thinking about how she feels when he’s looking at her like that. “You’ve eaten one spoonful. Wait till we get through the main course and dessert. _Then_ you can thank me,”

“I wasn’t talking about the food, as delightful that was.” Weyoun’s eyes never left her profile, and he holds back a smile as he sees her tail swish. That was another thing he noticed about her. Wherever she feels particularly uneasy, she can wear an impassive mask, but her tail would swing about behind her. “Bringing me here goes beyond your duties as my asylum keeper.” 

Hiraya knows that the growing warmth on her face is not because of the gentle, artificial sun. 

She swallowed the fluttering in her stomach. “What about as a friend?” She managed.

Weyoun 6 blinked at her.

“You looked like you needed a break, so I thought, let’s just hang out for today, you know?”

There was a soft, gentle smile on his face as he says, “Well, I am glad that the stars were able to persuade you on a different path,” 

“Me too, Weyoun. Me too.” 

  
  
//

translation:

 _“Ano, palag?” -_ translates roughly to 'you want some of this?' or something along the lines of, 'are you gonna fight back?'  
 _"Luh,"_ is basically an expression, like a verbal eyeroll. 


End file.
